


Three Nights

by Devahhole



Series: House of Gei [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dark, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fucking, Hatake Kakashi is a Troll, Humor, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Sex, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-29 20:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devahhole/pseuds/Devahhole
Summary: Sakura Haruno learns a thing or two about growing up.





	1. Prologue: House of Gei

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little series I fished out of the smut locker. I'm on vacation and I have no laptop but that's never stopped me before.

#### Sakura Haruno

"That one, I want her,"

It wasn't unusual that you didn't think this applied to you, it isn't often-or ever, that someone makes such a request and you're the preference. You're always in the line-up of women, always shrinking into yourself counting down the moments until you can peel away and resume your duties as a maid and not as some glorified whore. It wasn't like you were looking down on them or anything but you felt like you had a lot more going for you than to lay on your back and be disrespected by anyone who could afford you.

You weren't built that way; to endure something so degrading and downright horrifying being done to your body, to be taken repeatedly by someone who cared very little about you or your mental stability. A lot of women could stomach being a fuck bag for pay but you weren't in those ranks, no matter the price that was payed.

Some would argue that you were hardly a woman, in fact, you actually felt quite like you were still in the throes of your youth. You were at that confusing juncture of not yet a woman but still as careless as a child. People were still taking care of you-even if you hated to admit it. You left home at a young age but it wasnt like you had a say in the matter.

It always came as a surprise to you, living in the House of Gei but you were surviving and learning at a snail's rate. There were still things you couldn't quite come to terms with, the obscene views in relation to women were one of them and men in general was a close second.

So, of course, you made no reaction to the request. It couldn't be you he was talking about, it never was. You're eyeballing a mischievous bug with its flittering transparent wings, it's on the nail of your grubby toe with its iridescent shell that seems to darken the instant you notice it. It tickles when it reaches the callus skin of your feet and you stifle the tickle that strokes your tummy and coats it in anxious flutters.

"Sakura?"

A firm voice is directed at you, gravely. You recognize the voice and it still doesn't quite absorb you, not like it normally does. It's like the static of background noise, you desperately want to drown out with the bug on your toe. You strain your eyes, wishing you could hear the noise of the bug roaming your toe, a moment later you wish that you had the ability to take its form and fly away from here. You couldn't imagine why this bug, with all its freedom, had chosen to waste it on a toe like yours.

"Sakura Haruno!?"

Your sleeve is being yanked and with it so is every other part of you; stumbling off the podium, nearly losing your footing. You're a klutz and grace was always absent in your presence. You probably resemble some type of wet cat, arising from one of your lost lives and realizing that the second death would probably hurt just as much as the first.

"Are you sure this is the one for you? Get a good look, she's barely got any meat on her, we've got juicer girls." Your guardian-your wrangler-your employer, is holding you aloft by the sparse chunk of meat of your forearm. He's forcing you to twist and turn, like you're a personal display made for keen scrutiny.

An aura of terror has taken you, crippled you and bred itself inside of you. You feel nauseous and sick, sweat is pooling at the small of your back, hot droplets of sweat trek down your spine. Your eyes are burning with unshed tears, teeth clamped against the swell of your bottom lip.

_What are you doing, Kakashi?_

You want to ask the man whose been responsible for you all this time. Sure, you guys have had your ups and downs as far as work was involved. Sometimes you were undeniably lazy, late or completely disrespectful but he was always a pretty good sport about it. He'd reduce your food rations, overwork you or make you scrub the jizz-soiled bedsheets with your bare hands but it's what you knew you deserved for being rotten and irresponsible. But this? This had come completely out of left field, this transaction, it made no sense and you couldn't pinpoint the last time you had done anything wrong to deserve this sort of fate.

He knows that you're not employed for this particular service and it's mortifying that he's even considering giving you to someone. You had no experience to go off from and even if you did, you weren't willing to just lend your body on a whim. This can't be happening, it's some type of joke, this is just one of his over exaggerated lessons and just as you'd be about to bawl your eyes out, he'd come clean and banish you to your quarters. Maybe you forgot to clean one of the rooms thoroughly, maybe this was the delayed punishment from the time you spilled scolding hot chamomile tea on one of the Fire Daimyo's guardsmen. You recalled apologizing profusely on your knees, even after being smacked across the face, nostrils leaking blood.

Something firm suddenly grasps your hips. Your body stiffened and you long to bolt across the floorboard and out the door at demon speed but your brain stopped functioning. You felt a heavy presence beside you, a presence so overwhelmingly dense it overpowered Kakashi's and made you feel as though the guardian had left. Though you're conscious of his hand clasped tightly around your pulsing forearm.

It wouldn't be smart to look up, so you keep your eyes on their feet, the man touching you stalks around you slowly, dragging his fingers along you. You can hear the ruffling of his cloak, make out the crimson cloud patches against the black backdrop of it. He's moving gently, his sandals cracking against the floorboard as he continues his assessment unhurriedly.

"She's the one," his voice is no louder than a rumble. It feels close to your ear but he's a distance away, though his fingers now reside at the nape of your neck. Your skin is sweltering, your heart is beating the shit out of your chest and thrumming wildly through your ears, trying to find a way to get rid of itself.

Your mouth feels dry, like you swallowed sandpaper, you look towards Kakashi and he's doing everything in his power to not make eye contact with you. He releases your forearm and it hurts, like a pinch that will sting until morning. Though you can't make out his expression over that bit of cloth, you can see that his dark pupil expands and his silver brows are high like he's surprised about something.

"Well, you see-Mr. Uchiha, Sakura isn't one of the working gals," He explains in a cautious and reserved tone, putting it lightly and trying to keep an air of business behind his obvious fuck up. "I get how she might seem desirable, she's younger than the other gals but I'm afraid she hasn't come into that kind of maturity nor experience in this department. Wouldn't you prefer a woman more-em, tailored to your needs?"

Should this upset you, being talked down to, right in front of your face? It wasn't like he was lying. At this point you'd be fine with Kakashi telling this thrill seeking stranger that you were mentally ill and sexually challenged. That could just as easily be true as well. Anything to get the hell out of dodge and leave with your dignity, that's all you had left after all.

The stranger sighed, though you could feel that he wouldn't relent, his heavy fingers were still on you possessively as though he had already payed for the night. To a man, you'd imagine that you might have been more preferable-compared to all the run through women in the House of Gei but you knew next to nothing about pleasing a man, you could hardly please yourself.

"I was told the House of Gei was a very professional establishment that caters to their clientele, a dear friend of mine raves about the services here for shinobi, so I was expecting to have my fill-the first time trying it out. I had my doubts upon entering this tavern of seasoned whores but I have no reason to doubt that, "

He lingered on his last word, you could feel him crowding you, his large frame pressed against your wavering spine. You could feel the sculpted ridges of him, the lean but intimidating muscularity you feel against you is enough to send you into an eruption of shivers.

"I want her, I'll pay whatever is required-to have her for a night or three. The lack of experience is an issue of very little relevance to me. I've been patient long enough, name your price hostess?"

Without any hope of hope you stare hard at your guardian, even if his eye resembles a saucer and you can practically make out the currency signs flashing ominously behind them. You still hope that he wouldn't go as far as to hand you over like this, there was no way he would just let someone fuck you. He was your guardian, he was there to protect you from things like this, although you had suffered discipline at the hands of many strangers outside Kakashi, usually due to your own self destructive tendencies and no fault of your caretaker. He has always been sympathetic to your natural awkwardness and even found himself laughing at your shenanigans.

_He wouldn't do this, he wouldn't._

When his eye finally drops to you, your heart soars and you're smiling. This is your desperate attempt to appeal to him, like a daughter to their father-though he was far from. Still, he was as close as it gets. The longer you both stare at each other, the heavier your chest feels with grief. Your lips tremble and you can hear a strangled sound in your throat but you're swallowing and swallowing to keep it down.

Kakashi places a hand to his head and sighs, he looks you over one last time and you recognize the face he gives you.

It pinches you sharply, like he pinched your forearm.

It's the face he made when he directed you to hold your head back so that he could dab at the blood under your nose after you were backhanded. He didn't scold you then, he simply said sorry and although sorry didn't erase the angry tears burning through your swollen eyes nor did it stop the blood gushing from your inflamed and arguably damaged nostrils.

Sorry was just a word, he hoped would lessen the blow.

But sorry would never make this right, it only held you over until the next inevitable sorry.

You lowered your head back down to your toe, the bug was no longer dwelling on your toe. You could hardly hear the men discussing you, like you were some type of exotic delicacy being ordered. You roamed the polished ground for the bug and see the rudiments of its body fused into the ground like a blemish, flattened. The wings weren't discernable. If you had only just seen the bug now, you wouldn't have thought that it had ever been anything beautiful. It should have flown away when it had the chance.

You swallowed hard, trying to school your visibly shaken features. There was no use.

_I'm sorry._

~~~~

 

The House of Gei wasn't a place people just casually strolled into and applied for. The place was a sentence that you had to serve. Women employed were either indebted to the slovenly host, indentured servants or stragglers who were loyal to their family's welfare and sent money home. You were the latter.

Your parent's medical bills were through the roof-and have been since they began their descent into seniority. If it wasn't your mother being carted off to the hospital, it was your father and though they use to tell you that they would take care of everything, you knew that pride was a palatable trait in your genes. Nothing was ok, they were only getting worse and worse.

You came across Kakashi when you were sixteen, you were malnourished and practically begging for work and polishing your nonexistent resume. Some people would buy into your claims and hire you, only to fire you the moment they realize you were no good. You felt like you were on your last breath, the day you came across him.

It was a sweltering summer afternoon, the sky looked bruised and puffy; arrayed in swirls of bronze and reds. You were in Konoha, the same spot you always worked diligently from, the marketing area where top dollar merchants gambled behind their makeshift stands. You had no stand, only your ability to lie about your worth and that day, you were thirsty and your voice had grown hoarse from trying to convince people that you could earn your keep. Needless to say, no one bought it.

The sun was beating down on you endlessly, your hair was matted around your face and the stench of you had been repelling potential employers away. Your throat was sore when you swallowed and your legs quivered with every step you took, vertigo had you spinning around and when you passed out, you thought you'd never wake up again.

"Can you folks give us space, she's coming to,"

Blearily, your eyes flutter open and a slight breeze turns the sweat on your brow cold. Your mouth is thick with bile and woozily, you make to flee the state of shock your body is in. People are hovering around you, worrying over you-like they care. You blink profusely and your vision clears to unveil unfamiliar faces, the one closest to you has a head of wild silver hair and a mask that conceals majority his face. You identify a single eye and raise a brow.

"Is this hell?" you grunt and you can hear him chuckling at your lame joke.

That might've been why you thought he was so trustworthy, you couldn't see the smile beneath that thin cloth but someone had laughed at you. Someone listened to something you had said and they thought it was funny. Maybe you were just desperate for genuine human interaction, maybe you lurched at the opportunity too quickly. Hadn't your parents always told you to be wary of strangers? Being on your own, you had thrown caution to the win and decided what's best for you. You couldn't take your parents advice, they were old and raised on strange principals where to trust is to die. This was why neither of them had friends and they depended so much on you.

"As hot as it is, it certainly feels hellish. Let me help you up."

Fatigue was evident on half his face, he urged himself to stand upright and held out a palm for you. He was tall, broad and wearing an odd doily looking bathrobe, in public. It was an odd fashion statement that you questioned inwardly but wouldn't dare speak it out loud. The crowd hovering over you lost interest in you being alive and dispersed. You took the silver haired man hand and he hoisted you up. Staggering, you tried to regain your equilibrium. The man steadies you with a single aiding palm between your shoulder blades.

"There you are," he encourages, "it's of dire importance that you keep yourself hydrated, the amount of heat casualties this summer keeps increasing, an all-time high I hear. If you've got a couple of minutes, I could buy you something to drink."

You nearly pant at the offer, you could feel sweat dampening your slacks and making your shirt stick to your back, the density higher at your side because of the duffle bag loaded with the few things you own.

"No, I couldn't," you admit modestly, you have done this enough to know exactly where it might go. The man seemed very young and eccentric. Men like that always had an angle after buying you something, they would assume that you'd do virtually anything for a meal and you didn't have time to waste on a public scuffle because some prick got horny watching you eat. It wasn't like you were trying to seduce anyone by practically devouring the plate along with whatever they had chosen to order for you. You were starving and on the brink of death. How anyone could misconstrue your homelessness was beyond you.

"You," Kakashi says tilting his head to level with your frantic eyes. "will not be doing a thing sweetie, it's my treat, you're too young to die from heat stroke. I was just on my way to grab a late lunch anyway. You may as well tag along, unless of course you mean to insult me?"

Kakashi smells like something marshy, cinder, nicotine and piney. He walks with a languid conviction and a way that makes him seem much older than he looks. You are strutting extra hard to keep at his side, your duffle bag knocking up against your hip irritatingly, your knees feel creaky but you press on as though your state of unrest doesn't bother you.

You wonder if Kakashi is the owner of a business or a high-ranking employee somewhere in the village. Maybe he could vouch for you and get you in somewhere. He seems like the generous type of person you should reach out to. Though your parents would be disappointed in your blind faith in strangers, you know they're just old and mistrusting of everything, even evolution. You miss their paranoia and your heart drops in your chest, thinking about what will happen if you don't get a foot through a nonrotating door. You absolutely had to try, so you swallow your apprehensions.

"Sweetie," Kakashi is examining you with a single eye, he presses his cold knuckles to your fervent forehead and waits a beat. "you're hotter than a fuckin sauna on the sun, maybe I should walk you to the clinic just to be on the safe side."

Going to the clinic would only quadruple the bills you were attempting to pay off-for your parent's sake. If you were sick, you would just have to suck it up and pray for a speedy recovery without the antibiotics. You refused to wind up in the hospital. You couldn't afford to be sick or hurt.

Greatly embarrassed by how, out of it, you always were--you wave off his concerns and shoulder the duffle bag more securely.

"N-no, I'm fine, as you said, it's just really hot and I've got a lot of junk on my mind."

Kakashi nodded sympathetically, "Can relate on that one, I'm galivanting around the village in a damn bathrobe, bitches are driving me crazy…"

His voice is choppy and low, under his breath as though he hadn't been meaning for you to hear but you had and you're concerned, for yourself of course. It wasn't like you were astounded by the sudden change of his tone or offended by the obscenity of that derogatory word. You might've been young but profanity was nothing you felt too threatened by, hell, you yourself were capable of having a sailor's mouth on certain occasions. Mostly when pissed or in pain, your vocabulary suddenly got very extensive.

He walked you to a small little diner that you could never hope to afford, ever. One of those fancy smancy places, that required a proper reservation. You remember walking home from school and seeing a few of your silver-spoon classmates seated in booths there, their table would always overflow with all types of exotic foods and desserts that left you frothing at the mouth. A few times you were tempted to dash in and thieve like your life depended on it.

Which is funny because it might have.

Kakashi ushers you and a waitress in a yukata ushers the both of you to your seat. The smell is so tidy you nearly puke at the pristine atmosphere. Was the air filtered in here? It smelled of vanilla and crisp lavender sheets. The seats are so leathery and shiny, your eyes had to adjust to this level of definition. The atmosphere is unlike anything you've ever felt, the climate is a far cry from the sweltering outdoors, a coolness radiated. The waitress stands aside, extending a graceful hand to offer you and the older man a small booth stashed in a corner.

"Thank you," Kakashi says to the waitress as he settles down, fixing his periwinkle robe, that did very little to conceal his over confident demeanor. You wish you could laugh at the robe but honestly, he was getting away with pulling it off.

"Thanks," you echo. The waitress is all cheek and teeth, placing open scroll menus on either side.

"If you'll take a minute to peruse the menu, I'll return to assist you in your orders, thank you for dining at Ichirakus." Without another word, she whisks off

"Mhhm," Kakashi hums thoughtfully, hunched over the menu, "This place has really come up, it used to be tragically run down in my day. Good for them."

Your eyes are scoping out the place. There are crystalline chandeliers, with long glassy ornaments chiming from them. Spiritual instrumental gives an ambience of tranquility and you can hear a guzzling fish tank somewhere in the area. A veil of indistinct chatter seals you in and you lean into the table towards Kakashi.

"You must be loaded, this place is-this place is freakin nice but it looks super expensive," you stare back up at the crafty arched ceiling and sleek architectural design.

Kakashi is shrugging carelessly, he tosses his menu down like it's no big deal that he can afford it. You look into his eye and he looks back at you, seemingly aloof. You blink a few times, a puzzled look latches to your face. Out of habit you began to fuss with your stringy tresses, combing the damp mess back with your dirty nails and to your utter amazement, it behaves.

"Why are you lookin at me like that?" you ask innocently. Though in the back of your mind, you note that you still must ask him about his occupation. If he can afford a, 'late lunch' at such an extravagant place, the job had to be paying really well. Really well, was your starting rate.

Kakashi taps a single calculating digit on his jaw and shrugged.

"Your eyes are like emeralds, so rare and beautiful, has anyone ever told you that?" he inquired, his brow twitches up and then he leans forward, lacing his big ashen hands. His fingernails were oddly lengthened.

You're a bashful mess and you have no right to be. You were pretty dingy and you couldn't remember the last time you snuck and took a bath, you hadn't been home in days, you hardly had a place to lay your head at night. How could he be so nice to you? Feeding you compliments and offering to buy you a hot decent meal. It was all too good to be true and that was the terrifying part.

"Am I being too presumptuous, thinking you enjoy these sorts of things?" he waved a hand to gesture around the restaurant but you know the complements are implied as well. He yanks down the cloth on his face, just enough to let his lips out. For a split second you wonder the story behind it but don't bother asking.

You shake your head profusely to his question, biting your bottom lip like a demure child. He laughs in exuberance and clears his throat just as soon.

"Actually, if I could be so bold. How old are you? You'll have to pardon me, I know most women aren't too fond of being asked about it so upfront but you, you could pass for jailbait so-I thought I'd ask."

You are the very definition of jailbait but that's not something you feel like you should fess up to, so you don't.

"Just turned eighteen, a few months ago." You lie astoundingly, nodding as though you were nodding to a beat and skimming the aisles for the waitress. You're parched and hungry enough to eat a boar.

Kakshi clapped, "Congratulations, doors start opening up at that age, you should seize every opportunity that comes your way. You're a decent looking young woman, so why not?"

He was suddenly looking at you through new eyes. Like you revealing that you were eighteen suddenly granted him access to behave differently. You couldn't quite put your finger on it or identify his strange behavior. You might've lied and said you were eighteen but you certainly didn't know what being that age entailed. Growing up just meant aging to you, you knew people who were older than you and they still hadn't been any more responsible than you were.

When the waitress finally returns, things had changed drastically. Kakashi was ordering an alcoholic beverage, inquiring if he could smoke and doing so as though he were the only person in the restaurant. He even offered you a smoke, which you declined. Your unflinching refusal to smoke opened a can of worms and somehow you ended up talking about sex. Yes, sex. The sixteen-year-old that you were, knew that you couldn't speak on something you had no knowledge of and it was never a topic in your religious home either. Your parents were strict and believed in purity until marriage, you guessed you adopted their philosophy because you were sixteen and didn't feel like you were missing out on anything by not having sex. Even though people called you a virgin to insult you and some people worshipped you for being a virgin. You didn't think it mattered that much.

Kakashi starts telling you about the one time he fucked someone, for some reason. You're uncomfortably stiff in the booth, sipping lemon water through a straw and trying not to focus on any particular detail of the story.

Kakashi is elbows deep into the Oakwood table, his voice is secretive, though you believe that he could just as easily shout it from the rooftops and not be embarrassed. You really can't understand why he chooses to tell you the story but after a while he gets to (what you presume is) the point.

"-kind of like a geisha house but not really, a bit lewder-fuck, that's probably a gross understatement. Regardless, I can recount my experience from that glorious place. Sex is, sex can be a decent activity, soothing-even therapeutic. You know what I mean?"

He has the stem of his wine glass between his index and middle finger. He flicks his wrist and the red glistening liquid roils around, he stares almost hypnotized into it. You simply nod, caught off-guard with his strange need to be agreed with. You have no idea what he's talking about but you sense a closing to his nonsensical ranting. You had both ordered katsudon, you had ordered it by default because everything else wasn't cheap nor pronounceable.

"I run a whorehouse," Kakashi blurted and you're gawking and looking over your shoulder overtly, wondering if he had drawn attention. It's apparent that Kakashi is slightly inebriated, just a smidge.

Great, the guy works at a house for tail. You wouldn't be caught dead at such a place-you'd be branded a whore by association. Even if it pays well, there were just some things you wouldn't touch with a nine inch pole. You feel like a fool for leading yourself on and thinking this time would be any different than when you were rejected by other employers. No one wanted you, you just didn't have the skills to acquire a decent job and laying on your back was nowhere on your list of dream jobs.

"Oh c'mon, don't look so judgy, people have to make a living. Men like sex," he claims, placing a plam to his chest as an advocate, "not just me either, it's a good outlet, especially with all that's going on with this economy. There is never a dry day, business is always booming-hey, hey?"

"Hey?" You're grinning, though every muscle in your face knows it's fake. You wonder if people can overhear Kakashi.

"How would you like to come work for me?" Kakashi turns up his wine glass and it hardly looks like he took a sip, his eyes are on you and you're no longer smiling.

"Uh, I'm not a whore." You state sardonically, blinking hard, unsure of whether you should be insulted or angry that someone was blatantly extending such an offer as though it were a real game changer.

Lifestyles of a whore? No thanks.

Kakashi fixes a hard stare on you, like you've somehow offended him by tone alone. Wasn't he just referring to his girls as, 'bitches'. The man is a contradiction.

"You're way too hung up on the label," He scolds, "the profession takes more discipline than most professions."

Somehow, you doubt that.

You're shaking your head at him, sticking to your guns and of course he doesn't give up on trying to talk you over to the dark side. Kakashi was clearly a man who could finesse a chicken into a deep fryer. He was determined to make you an apostle of living off your back. He could try at least. You were a virgin and sex looked like an excruciating activity, you'd rather veto from your life. There was nothing he could say to make you want to let some sweaty freak violate every orifice on your body.

"I don't want tons of perverts to, you know-do it to me," you elaborate, aiming your straw into a corner of the glass-stabbing at the crushed ice.

"It's more complex than that," he snapped his fingers in an irate way, "what's your name again?"

"Sakura..." You don't recall ever telling him that the first time.

"Right-Sakura, my apologies in advance for being so frank but are you a virgin?"

By not you've gotten a slight idea of who Kakashi is. He's unfiltered and unapologetic. Though you knew you should have been prepared for the next bold question he ventured to ask, you weren't.

Your shoulders felt like they were over her ears as you slunk back into the booth like melted swiss. Figuring there wasn't a reason to lie, you nod noncommittally, twirling your straw around idly. You couldn't seem to keep still.

Kakashi sucks in a heavy breath and sits up ramrod straight, taking it all into account, you could see the gears turning in his head.

"Tell ya what, I've got a proposition. Hows about you come work for me, cleaning duties. I get this feeling that you could use the job. Couldn't you?"

This wasn't exactly what you had in mind, it all seemed way too close for comfort to you. Being a custodian to a whore house, sounds like a messy job but it seemed like a miraculous offer-where there were so few. None in fact.

As much as you'd like to reject the offer and hightail it out of there, you knew that leaving this, could potentially lead to never having the money to pay your parents medical bills. You were running out of time and eventually, the hospital wouldn't be able to host them for much longer. This was necessary and it's not like you were going to be the one whoring. You'd just be cleaning things up, no doubt it would be a trying feat but it had its merits.

"Just cleaning?" You ask in a small voice, making sure you looked him directly in the eye. You tried to look older than what you are but you couldn't help but think you probably looked bloated and incompetent.

Kakashi raised his palms in silent surrender.

"Yes, unless you're comfortable with doing more," he gibed, "I'm not giving up on the idea of you joining the House of Gei."

You scoff and raise a dubious brow, "Why would you offer something like that to me? You've known me for all of thirty minutes. I could be way in over my head."

Kakashi shrugged, he dips into the ashtray against the wall where the condiments are. He drags the smoking end of a cigarette through the ashes already coating the flat, burned through, dish.

"You have beautiful eyes, I'm certain you're a quick learner and maybe you'll change your mind about working as a gal. You've got the face for it, the body however, could use some fattening-"

You roll your eyes.

"Fat chance, is this normally how you recruit employees?"

He twisted his lips, a jointless hand dragging a few tendrils of silver to the back of his head.

"From time to time but you're the first one I've ever taken out to lunch, think about that."

You cross your arms over your chest and contemplate for a moment, making sure nothing seems off about it.

"I will, think about it."

You know you're talking about the job and you know you have nothing to think about. You needed to take it, you just weren't sure what it would entail. For some reason, you couldn't help to feel like you were making a deal with the devil but Kakashi was nothing like the devil. He was all smiles and business transactions.

No one had ever fed you, no one had ever looked you over and saw that you hadn't been eating. People passed you by every day like you were more ghost than human. Sometimes you felt like no one would miss you if you just slipped away.

"Take all the time you need kitten. Good things come to those who wait and you're a good thing, I can feel it."


	2. Night One: First Client

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura is seduced by her first client.

####  Sakura Haruno

You know it is customary for the gal to lead the client through the sanctuary, even though you have never been a gal in your life. You were-are, however, a curious person who often heard things; some things you weren't particularly fond of and other things that resonated with you because they've been spoken too often to forget.

Lead your prey and make no mistake-they're your prey, mindless livestock under your tantalizing spell. It's important, to lead…to tease…up until the moment you enter the den.

Kakashi beats this over the head of every new recruit, like a dead horse. If he caught one of the gals being led down the halls by a dominant client, he all but whips it into the offending whore the next morning. Afterwards he always says he won't allow, 'the system', to fail. Whatever that means. You've always suspected he enjoyed giving the whippings more than teaching the lesson-though he denies it up and down by assuring the girls he took no joy in their pain. But you know better, he was always present when a gal would leave with her feast in tow. He is always waiting on baited breath, hoping someone would defile his rules.

It's your turn to take part in this ridiculous tradition and you're still shell-shocked that it's come down to this. You hardly feel present in your own body and everything feels too foggy to cut through to your senses fully. It's like an eerie nightmare that manages to tether itself into your reality somehow.

Kakashi is patting your shoulder with all the weight of the threat involved and breathing out of his nostrils as if to brace himself for your obvious defiance. Would he beat you tomorrow for it? Kakashi had never spoken the rules to you per-se but you'd imagine that the whipping would come regardless, under the guise of corrective training or a necessary precaution. After tonight's foreign activities, you doubt you'd feel a thing tomorrow.

"Cherry?"

That horrid moniker is said, the one he 'mistakenly' called you on several occasions before suggesting that you embraced it. 'It's just fuckin sexier', he once said to you, 'cherries imply a loss of youth, a loss of innocence-which is quite ironic'. The name implicates him and does an outstanding job of grabbing your bitter attention. You're scowling at him, the sorrowful look on your face has turned into outright anger. Kakashi is completely unfazed, holding a gaze of indifference despite the silent conviction ablaze in your jeweled eyes. He's as calm as ever, like he's talking to a gal and not you. Maybe, that's all you've ever been to him from the get go. You're only just seeing it now when it undoubtedly applies.

You were being drafted into this lifestyle, barred by your duties to your parents and this son of a bitch was exploiting it for every penny that you could be worth.

"Cherry," he tries again in a to-be-taken-seriously tone, his sharp nails snag your jaw and as his cold finger tips grab your chin. He is hunching at the waist and tugging you so that you were at eyelevel with him. You're not intimidated by this attempt to strike the fear of god into your heart. You were accustomed to the way he treated the gals but you were never one of the gals-until now.

"You're going to be a good girl, eh?"

Refusing to answer, you simply just look at him. He could get away with pawning you off for the night but you wouldn't let him leave this arrangement feeling like all was forgiven. Not this time. He chuckles, you assume that he's trying to reign in his natural impulses, the ones that often drive him to backhand disrespectful gals. Kakashi leans into you, against your ear, hot breath smelling of malt liquor and citrus.

"Now is not the time to have an episode, you're mad with me-understandable. I don't give a shit. This gentleman wants you enough to pay a large sum. You recall your goals, don't you? Your precious parents' hospice tab isn't even a fraction of paid off with the silly wage you're raking in as a maid. Take this experience lying down or standing up but-take it, you will. You're either going to rise to the occasion or fail your parents and yourself, if you loved them, you'd play this for all it's worth and cry about it later."

It was a mouthful, the things he said to you. Multiple jabs to your empty gut because he had never discussed the financial aid of your parents. He only notified you when he delivered your earnings to the hospital and he never made any assurances that you were making progress. You just sort of assumed you were, after all, you never saw the money you worked for. You didn't want to waste a cent on trivial things you had no immediate use for. Kakashi had given you a place to live, your meals were free and you could practically walk around the House of Gei in a towel and no one would bat a lash.

"D'you understand my little Cherry bomb?"

His hot breath and lips brushing the shell of your ear with its treachery and you tremor. Your fist kept cracking the tighter they furled at your side. You know that he's right but the betrayal of it all is what's really bothering you, coupled with the fact that you knew Kakashi didn't just do things out of the kindness of his heart. The client might've been spending a fortune on you but you're willing to bet only a morsel of it would go to your parents. Still, even if it wasn't enough, it would be more than the scraps of money you had been making.

"Whatever," just because you know he was right doesn't mean you'll be easy and accepting. You jerk your face away from him in an act of sheer rebellion that should have probably gotten you struck down but it doesn't—for now at least.

Kakashi leans upright with a sigh, as though he had gotten through to you and in a way, you suppose he has. He's opened your eyes and made you realize just how dumb you've been, how stupid you were to put your trust into someone based on false pretenses. The world was grotesque and warped, bending to the will of manipulators and you were just common fodder trapped and writhing between the vicious teeth of a gear. You suddenly felt foolish for not trusting in your parents advice, your displaced trust in Kakashi has wounded you and your desire to make decisions independently. This shouldn't even be happening, you're only seventeen years old, your parents should be around to bail you out of this.

"Atta girl," Kakashi is cooing, dismissing your actions. "run along, I'm sure Mr. Uchiha has had enough of my doting over his new toy."

You want to be stubborn, you want to eject the rational side of why you were doing this but the reasoning has been branded into your mind, making it possible to ignore that this could take you one step closer to being ok. This could really help your parents.

********

He slides the shoji until it taps the frame. The room door gapes open and the stranger steps inside and carefully begins to remove his shoes, cloak and everything else. You're frozen in the hall, you can practically smell the sex, mingling with the potent jasmine incense at the end of the hall. You peer into the room and it's dark save for the sliver of moonlight sneaking through the window over the bed. The crescent moonlight is dim, you realize, stepping across the threshold.

The room is quite drafty and you're holding yourself tightly, your wet lashes suddenly notifies your body that you're cold and you shiver. The man in front of you quickly twists around and you gasp but he leans past you to slide the door shut and lock it.

"Disrobe, quickly," he orders in a nonnegotiable way and you're not surprised that your heart stops. The sound of clothes being rumpled and discarded, a few millimeters away from you alarms you. He is neither modest, nor patient but his haste to be completely naked is evident. You watch him, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it through the stratosphere of darkness behind him. You pretend to be oblivious to his actions, even though your heartbeat returns to you like a bruising kick to your chest.

You're undeniably shocked that things are happening this fast and it all brought about some type of horrifying realization. This was reality, this was really happening. Kakashi had literally handed you over to this shark, without asking you if you were ok with this. He had given you over for a lumpsum you would never lay your eyes on.

Your heart is constricting in your chest, you swallow and swallow, debating your options and realizing you hardly had any. In fact, what options? You were Kakashi's appliance, that was the contract you had unwittingly signed, the pact you had made. You owed money, after all the loans you had taken to insure your parents were well looked after. All this trouble and you couldn't even leave to check on them, couldn't know if they were truly ok. You only had Kakashi's word to go on and lately, the value of that decreased.

Sure, you could run but how far would you get before a bounty hunter found you and dragged you back here to pay off your dept. Probably not long with your impressive track record for getting caught.

"Your clothes," the voice says in tangible irritation, "off."

You flinch and your fingers fumble at the sash of your kimono hurriedly. Eyes blurry, fingers anxious, you blindly start clawing your way out of your garment. You're aware of the panicked and awful noises escaping your lips. Sweat causing the silk to melt against your skin like a layer of plastic.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

You wouldn't, pride wouldn't let you, the tears froze and made your eyes shine. You supposed you were being too tedious because the stranger apprehends you by your elbow and instead of towing you to the proverbial bed he has thrown you up against the wall.

Stubbornly you're still making a show of tugging at your sash when his hands grab the collared folds of your Kimono and he's snapping the material apart. Everything snags and then whooshes. Your belt is unsecured and the silk starts to slide down your shoulder, your back, like an intimate whisper. You can hardly hear him breathing as he rakes the sleeves down your arms, his fingers grazing your skin, invading your space remorselessly.

It dawns on you, in an agonizing way that you're stark naked, the kimono pooling around your feet. Nothing was separating you from this stranger, it might've been dark but you knew that he was examining your small frame with unbridled hunger. You attempt to make yourself small against the wall and you can hear someone mewling through the paper-thin walls and breathy sex noises from the room next door.

The climate is awkward and you're staring everywhere else except at the stranger in front of you. You're quaking and it's not because the drop of temperate. Tension and fear are bubbling so fiercely inside of you that it physically hurts to not crash and cry. Your eyes are boiling over and suddenly a finger snaps to claim your jaw. The touch is rough and pressured, turning you from one angle to the other. You felt your jaw click beneath his uncaring fingertips.

You're still feeling smug about not facing your, "client" but he doesn't seem to give a damn whether you're looking at him or not. He crowds you against the wall and you can feel every sinful inch of his heat drenched body sliding against you.

His muscles are rippling against your soft skin, his chest flattening your small breast. You're overwhelmed by the alien feeling of his iron bones and silk dampened skin. The way his fingers knead your ass as if they know you personally and then his muscles tense and you feel a sting after his palm tags you on the ass and the smack erupts in your ears. It stings like a wasps bite, it hurts, something lodges itself in your throat and you can't keep a single swallow down.

"Go shower, scrub well," He says pointing towards the area to the left of the bed, there was a door that led to the bathroom. You have cleaned this building from top to bottom, you didn't require a reminder of where the bathroom was, none the less, you kept your mouth shut. "you stink of this brothel."

To anyone else, that would be insulting but to you, it gave you more time to devise a plan thus avoiding your imminent deflowering. Before he can change his mind you're all but jogging away from his infernal touch. You don't bother to turn around to see his reaction of your exaggerated obedience. You hear him sighing as though it's been a long day. You close yourself in the moment you're inside of the bathroom and then flicker on the lights. You're tripping over your toes, splattering to your knees at the bathtub and twisting at the knobs frantically. The eek noise fills your ears and then cascading water flood the bathroom, you quickly yank up the stopper and the showerhead sprays water against the tiles of the wall.

You lean against the edge of the tub, breathing as though you were on your last breath, staring at the down that swirled down the drain and you allow the sorrow to trickle from your eyes. Clamping your teeth into your palm, self-pity punctures through your chest and you're a mess of unexpressed emotions. You've been holding it in this whole time, finding no real opportunity to unleash the pain stored inside of you. Constantly in denial, you told yourself this was your only option, this was the only way to make things better. You can't remember how long it's been since you truly sunk to the bottom, since you truly took a look at your life and realized it wasn't all it was cracked up to be, although it was glaringly obvious. You were in a whore house.

Something strained presses against your throat and tears are pouring out of you. You bite even harder to keep your anguished cries at bay but they fight their way through regardless of your attempts to restrain them.

One knock has you scrambling to regain your composure.

Your heart is hammering down in your chest and while you sit there, naked on the ground feeling sorry for yourself and what you knew would occur, you could hear him outside the door. You practically leap into the tub, ignoring the stabbing pain of your knee knocking against the frame. You fumble for the basic unbranded tube of body wash offered on a shelf, beside a lineup of various bottled sundries. You hate the body wash, you could smell the rotten strawberry seeping from the pores of everyone around you and it always managed to work its way into your brain and give you a grating headache.

The smell of uniformity amongst the whores in House of Gin. No one could own a distinctive smell or be treated favorably. Sameness was good for morale and productivity, Kakashi would always make it a point to comment this when a customer complained about the smell of rotting strawberries.

You flinch this time, when the knock strikes the door. One knock. The door slides open and a man steps into what you had deemed, your neutral zone. Not anymore. Never in your short young life, has someone barged in on you during as personal a time as your private showering. Even your parents had enough decency to wait outside the door until you were finished. If you weren't so on edge you would be gaping and trying to find something to veil your nudity but there is nothing that could hide completely. And even if there was, most of the damage had been done. You settle for squirming in discomfort.

He is tall, lean and chiseled. You attempted to keep your eyes on his face but instinctively, they're everywhere else, because you refuse to look any lower than his waist. One crisis at a time, you have to remind yourself. A part of you knew, that if your eyes wandered any lower, you'd risk it all and bolt out of there. You knew the working gals weren't screaming out of pleasure sometimes and you had no intentions of joining that chorus of tell-tell pain. You weren't ready to see one up close, to acknowledge that something could defy your childish logic and somehow fit inside of you. The very thought of it almost made you hurl into the tub, you pressed a palm to your stomach as if this would somehow keep your disgust at bay. It doesn't.

The man comes closer into the light, he is marred with gashes and bruises; some healed and others looked acquired a few moments ago. Blood is visible and for a split second you wonder if he'd be accompanying you in the shower. God, you hoped not. You needed a few moments to yourself, to process everything so far. If you were being honest, you couldn't even begin to fit the pieces together, the pieces of how your life came to this point.

Steam clouds the small space, you stood under the needle-like spray of the showerhead, side-eyeing your client warily as he examined a bottle in his palm.

The thing you're drawn to is the length of his hair; dark and lustrous, draping over his broad shoulders and down his back. Though hair is often thought to be beautiful and of major value to most woman-beautiful is not how you'd describe the wild specimen in your company. There was no doubt in your mind, you knew there were few women that would deny him looking the way he looked. You had never come across a man with such a long mane. You knew of tales, in feudal japan where samurai often grew out their hair for some type of symbolism or to project their status but you doubted he was that behind the times.

The hair seems to magnify the danger you feel and it does nothing to quell your fears. He looks up and his dark eyes guiltlessly drink you in, flickering over every inch of you with undisguised thirst. You're grateful that you're under the deluge of the shower because your breath hitches and the pitter patter of the tap hitting the ivory shower drowns it out.

"From now on you will bathe in this scent," he steps forward with a small bottle of something and slips it through the fingers that are half-fisted, at your side, "if I wanted you to smell like everyone else, I'd be fucking everyone else."

You look away from him, those words-coming from his mouth are said in the strangest way. Not harsh or over compensating. The way he said, 'fucking' sent your spine into a shudder, his voice was truly haunting and encompassing. Like a serial killer that was just biding their time, projecting a calming outward guise while their demons writhed incurably beneath the surface. It absolutely terrified you, the plans this man had for you.

You grab the cloth from a shelf it's offered on and you thumb open the small bottle-with a creak and dab a small sample on the rag. The substance is thick and green, you can already identify a hint of something saccharine and excessively fruity, like a delicious syrupy apple. Thoughtlessly, you lather the rich soap and start laving your neck, armpits and breast.

Normally, you would take a criminal amount of time enjoying the suds crawling down your skin-the idea of being fresh and clean always relaxes you. Normally, you sung to past the time and relished the feeling of the lukewarm water hitting your skin, washing the dirt of the day away, cleansing your finger nails of the dry cum that hadn't come clean off the sheets you soused. Normally you weren't being monitored.

It doesn't occur to you to look over and issue him a look, you were almost certain he wouldn't leave, not when you were naked and washing with such hurried restraint.

"Slow down," he says, "you're a filthy, dirty, little girl and I don't intend to put my mouth on dirt or have dirt put its mouth on me."

I don't want my mouth anywhere on you!

You wished to shout, you're biting hard on your tongue and staring straight ahead at the wall.

"Don't forget those tight, pert, little nipples…" he directs lightly, trailing off and you don't miss the little, "ah-", sound that he makes as you rub the foamy rag around.

It's an odd request. Why would anyone want to watch you wash your nipples. Man or woman, you were pretty sure everyone had a pair of their own nipples. You feel slightly disgusted with yourself but you supposed it could be worse. He could be bending you over the bed right now and forcibly fucking the snot out of you. If he wanted to waste his time, watching you wash your nipples, you would feel a great deal of relief in the act.

You began to comply, mechanically, with no real motivation to do so. The noise of the soap rubbing your skin is deafening, a sound you never took notice to until it became the one sound outside of your paralyzing heartbeat. Your nipples pebble and the touch feels sensitive and disturbing to you as the rag flickers the hardened nub. The sensitivity of your nipples makes your body feel vulnerable and powerless. Your legs were shaking as thought they'd give out at any moment.

"Good-good girl," he praises, though his voice shows no indication of whether he was pleased. Quite frankly, you hoped he thought you were boring and lost interest in you but his next demand told you there was no hope of that ever happening.

"Now the other, get it nice and wet,"

You could hear it in his voice, slightly, you weren't sure what it was exactly-you just knew that he was repressing it. His voice had gone so much deeper than before, the hairs on the back of your neck were raised.

Slipping the rag to your right breast, you began to stimulate your other nipple, rubbing it lightly against the rag. The suds tickled your sensitive nipples and a strange sensation grappled your shoulders and extended like a nudge down your back.

What? Were you, enjoying this? Your body felt like a traitor. No, you weren't enjoying it, your body was easily stimulated. When you masturbated, it was never very long, it always felt like no sooner that you began flickering your thumb over your clit, you were already convulsing with a fulfilling release. You haven't had time to masturbate but when you usually do, it's never as treasured as you feel it's going to be. It's always brief and you chase it until it dies out like a high voltage bulb and you feel guilty for touching your body in that way.

Do other women, do it? Somehow you always feel sick the moment you come down from your clit curling orgasm and laying on your futon, distraught and confused. How could something that felt so good before, suddenly feel so morally corrupting. You weren't a saint by a long shot but masturbating always made you feel like a sex fiend, though your sessions were few and far between.

"Turn to me, lift one foot on the frame of the tub." Another order, an even lower voice and he had moved closer when you weren't aware. He was no longer a step back from the room and you could see his bare feet when you looked down, your eyes purposely evading one area specifically.

Your breath was shallow and the haze of the bathroom clouded your mind. It was so hot and your skin felt like it was melting. With a strained swallow, you twist your body around delicately and slowly, your dripping feet rests against the frame of the tub-water spilling over the side. It's cold and dry and you pray to god that you don't slip and die. You're definitely the type to have fatal tub-related injuries, brought on by your own reckless spirit.

"Fuck,"

The word twists your stomach, you would have missed that utter of raw lust if your ears hadn't been so zeroed in on his presence. The spray of the shower makes your skin feel like an agitated burn, you just want to get the hell out but you know he's not finished with you.

As if to correlate with the assumptions of your mind, you spot his fingers reaching out. You think of staging a fall and take way too long to toss yourself into the task because his cold fingers are on your sudsy sex, index finger and middle, making a 'V' shape. Your stomach sinks and you're holding a breath dreadfully, watching him near motionlessly-separate your sticky folds. Waves upon waves of strange sensations tighten below your waist and you can feel yourself instinctively clinching.

No one has ever touched you there, the concept was truly appalling and foreign. You couldn't look away, you were afraid to. You can hear him hissing with anticipation. You can feel a slight breeze glancing across your heated sex.

"Mmmh, soaking wet," he assessed and you can feel it, trekking down your inner thigh thickly, much different from the water that travels the groves of your flesh. Your body was really a traitor and it angered you that you couldn't stop it's symptoms. You can feel him intrusively prying you open further, exposing the bareness of your clit, letting it protrude from beyond the captivity of your folds.

Your pussy is throbbing, faster than your heart, you're keenly aware of this man and you can feel his volcanic breath. Oh god, what will he do? What could he do while you were showering? You hated that you asked that question, shower or not, he could do whatever he wanted.

"Show me how you want to be fingered," he says in a husk.

Should you protest? You didn't want to be fingered at all, not even if it was going to be you doing the fingering. You already hated it enough when you did it to you, there was no telling how sinful it would be if another person joined in. This wasn't what you wanted, then again, none of this was part of the deal you had originally made. Kakashi just pawned you off like some sort of rent-a-whore. It was pointless to bitch about, especially when nothing would change and you were bound by duty.

Still, you had to admit, this wasn't what you had been expecting. The other girls were always complaining about being fucked to death and sometimes they really looked beaten up. You wouldn't go as far as to say you were lucky because you weren't off the hook yet but you hadn't gotten fucked so far. Maybe you wouldn't.

Still not looking into his face, you use your right dominate hand to pass the rag to the left hand hanging at your side.

"Lean back."

You do so, back arching away from the icy tiles of the wall. Water wets your hair and beads down your brows, tracing the line of your nose-to your sternum, then your lips. You still manage to keep your sight purely on you. There was a considerable lapse of time between the events of you balancing yourself in the slippery slope of the tub and you making it to your clit. Sliding your hands over your waist and down your stomach, your hands brush past his- which are still holding you open-midway.

"Middle finger."

The middle? You didn't understand why it really mattered but you conceded to his strange request, gathering your juices with the singularity of your trembling middle finger. You were more or less grazing yourself, spreading the creamy slick over your sensitive clit. You hated the reactions of your body, the way spasms shook you to your very core. It was embarrassing, more embarrassing then wondering why you were embarrassed. Who cares if you acted like a virgin, you were. You didn't owe this guy any type of quality performance, you weren't a whore and you wouldn't conduct yourself as one. This was you, barely able to masturbate successfully. Nothing about you screamed, sex prowess.

Your body continues to clinch and writhe of its own accord. Out of habit you're biting your lips and trying hard to pretend you're alone. Maybe if you came he would leave you alone. In the back of your mind you know that's just wishful thinking. You know another order is coming and you were too aroused for your own liking, you just wanted this whole nightmare to be over. The girls had always been done so quick, why on earth was this taking so long.

The unmistakable sound of spitting made your ears jump and without thinking you made the mistake of looking up. His fingers still kept you open but he had ducked down and you could see a string of saliva connected from his lips to your pulsating clit.

It hit you hard, innumerable sensations of the act that had just been performed on you. It was the grossest thing you had ever seen, someone spitting on your body that way.

Dammit, your body was aching and you could feel that hot wad of spit coating your pussy and sliding hotly down your inner thigh.

Your middle finger froze, you could feel your aroused sex speeding against the pad of your finger. He slowly raised his head and those dark eyes were glazed over with need and unsaid intentions, saliva stuck to the corners of his lips and without warning he leaned in and took a nipple into his mouth.

You're gasping in surprise and ecstasy. It's like you were coming up from drowning, and you couldn't catch a breath. Your hands are shaking and pushing against the iron muscles beneath his chest but he's heavy and you feel so weak and it feels too good. So good you could scream but you don't flinching uncontrollably. It's taking everything in you to pretend you're having a horrible experience, nothing seems to be working.

Your nipple vibrates when he moans around them, he's groping and squeezing your tiny titties as he presses up against you, getting wet with you. You don't remember successfully breathing, all you're aware of is the sensory overload you're enduring as this stranger uses the underside of his tongue and laves rapidly over your bruised coppery nipples. He's slurping around them and making the wettest noises every time he takes them in. You don't attempt to disguise your pleasure of this, in fact you find it damn near impossible to look away as you watch helplessly. He drags sloppy open mouth kisses to your other breast and takes in the other nipple.

You unleash something between a strangled moan and a gasp as he soaks your overly aroused bud. Your head is turned up and you're struggling to control the mountainous amount of pleasure that rocks your body. You hardly know what to do and your mind is spinning and spinning, erasing every piece of restraint and defiance you had felt regarding this subject.

What was he doing to you, everything you had built up had flown right out the window. As much as you wanted to hate it, in this heated moment you were only aware of the deafening beat of your sex and the flutters deep in your stomach.

Before you can even cope with the overwhelming feeling of someone's mouth on you, he's leaning back and snatching you out of the tub, soak and wet. You scramble In fear minutely, wrapping your arms around his neck though he's secured you by your thighs. You're too high to be in contact with his offending member and you're grateful that there's a significate height difference between you two.

Fear strikes a chord along your body and you want to think straight, you want to kick and scream but your body felt so good and your brain was humming and wondering what he'd do next to you, in spite of the fear.

He's only taken three steps out of the bathroom, when suddenly, he's lowing you to the tatami although there's a perfectly good bed at his disposal. The mat is rough on your back and had you been in your right mind you would have wondered how often people fucked on the tatami.

The shower is still raining down in the background and the stranger is positioning himself between your legs, which pliantly open for him. You're unsure of the symmetry between your mind and body at this point. You know you should be displeased of your actions but everything just makes you curious and encourages you to explore this feeling of euphoria.

His body is against you, solid, although his elbows are propped on either side of your head. You can feel the curtain of his hair, around you, tickling your cheeks and your forehead. The bare feeling of his body pressed tightly against yours. You knew why you were reluctantly compliant before but right now, you have no idea why you're consciously complying.

"Are you a virgin?"

Somewhat embarrassingly, for reasons you can't even decipher, you nod.

You can't make out any of his features, the moonlight is striped across the bed but far away from the ground. He's moving a little, rolling his hips. The unearthly sensation that pings your nipples as they roll against his damp muscled frame has your head reeling. You know you're hopelessly horny, you understood that much.

"You have a mouth, use it. Understand?"

You start to nod but then swallow hard.

"Yes," you croak.

A small chuckle rumbles in the darkness.

"Interesting. You're my first in that department, how young are you?"

You're hesitant to answer. Your employer was under a false pretense that you led him to believe and you weren't sure if revealing this bit of information to a client would make things any better for you. The stall of your reply is obvious and the man above you, leans down into the crook of your neck and starts moving his lips against you with a suction based kiss, almost taking half your throat into his mouth.

Gaping, you feel as though he is somehow pulling your entire soul from your vessel. Your fingers awkwardly slip through his thick hair and fist him, pulling him closer. Your body feels possessed, back arching off the tatami, rolling against his hard frame like a flower reaching towards the scorching sun.

You can hear the strange sounds that leave your lips, they're so deranged you can't believe you're the one who's making these noises.

What is he doing..

Even when you masturbated you weren't this turned on. You weren't this besotted with yourself. Everything seemed so sensitive it felt painful and you needed something. You needed release. Needed!

You can feel his teeth on you, marking you with bites that scare and arouse you simultaneously. Your heart is quickening and slowing all at the same time and you just want everything to stop and fix itself because you can't take it.

"Oh my god, please do something," you're groaning fitfully, noting that you probably sound just as unexperienced as you were. You're moaning and whimpering like an animal in heat and the stranger above you is riling you up, twisting the battery in your back with no intentions of letting you ride out the tide. His self-restraint seemed to serve as some sort of strategy, to elongate this agonizing experience. This wasn't what you wanted, then again, you were having a hard time understanding exactly what you wanted at this moment.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, like he had no idea why he payed for you.

He has so much hair and it's all over you, your fingers are either lost in it or enjoying the fine feeling of sifting through it like lace.

"You want me to make you come," it isn't a question, more like a goad, "hm? Want me to suck all over that firm little clit until you cry? I know you enjoy my mouth on your dainty little body,"

He had such a dirty mouth, even his words ghosting on your neck turned you on. There seemed to be nothing this man could do to snap you out of your sudden unhealthy yearning for him. His lips are on the shell of your ear, casually saying nasty things to you and you're listen to every one of them, trembling and breathing.

His fingers are around your throat, practically choking you and yet you wish they were fastened around you like a noose. What the hell is wrong with you? You're on the cusp of losing your sanity and you could care less. You're grinding up against him and he's laughing. You're irritated and you feel bold enough to be.

"Please," you may as well be crying, your heart is all over the place and you hate the sound of your voice with a passion. Everything feels heightened and you wonder if he drugged you somehow. Though you don't recall when he had the opportunity, since you were watching his every move before.

"Answer me, little one, how old are you?" he asks once more and in your haste to answer, you don't stop to consider that it's the truth on the tip of your tongue and not the lie.

"Seven…teen," the realization that you outed yourself doesn't catch up quite as fast as it should and you're still well within the thrones of your insatiable hunger.

Your legs are ticking, even though they feel slack. Hell, your whole body is trembling. The guy freezes and a moment later rolls off you. His bare feet strikes against the tatami with the softest pats, he strolls to the clothes he had discarded on the ground earlier that night. He begins to dress himself.

In bewilderment, you watch the shadow of his form, his hair cascading over his forehead.

"That's all I require for tonight,"

Your heart constricts into a fist as you lay there, watching him. This should have made you happy, you were leaving and you hadn't lost your virginity. Maybe this whole thing would have ended a lot sooner if you had just told him that you were underage. You just figured he wouldn't have cared, he was a customer shopping for a whore, being illegal wouldn't burden him.

You guessed you were wrong. He left the room without saying another word and for some strange reason, you weren't as ecstatic as you should have been.

What even just happened?

With a sigh of exasperation, you finally come to your senses and turn on your side to cry into your trembling palms.

You never want to feel this way again. Whatever way this was.


	3. Night Two: doppelganger Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura nears the end of her contract, a second Uchiha makes his appearance.

#### Sakura Haruno

_Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…_

The sound is sleep inducing, rhythmic and relaxing. The transparent jade of the clawfoot tub has always mesmerized you. It's like you were bathing in the aquamarine waters of the ocean. Idly, you began scrubbing lazily at your forearm. Suds sizzles down your elbow, clouding the surface of the transparent tap with foamy bubbles and streaks of soap.

Steam ghosts over the water, thawing the deep knots wound tightly beneath your skin. You sank back with a sigh, letting your shoulders fall deeper and deeper, until your lips were leveled with the water. Your toes curl against the end of the tub, the enamel smooth to the touch.

You sigh once more, shakier, breathier.

Lips pressed tightly together, you peer at the ceiling mirrored on the water's surface.

_Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…_

Concentric circles ripple along the ceilings reflection on the water, making it fade-like a wavering mirage. Or some sort of portal that couldn't replicate reality, not entirely.

Water could be so deceptive, you think, looking your own faint reflection right in the eyes. Your wet hair was still haphazardly tossed into a sloppy bun, though ringlets of wet pink hair still managed to escape on either side of your face. Your eyelids are lightly rouged from sleep deprivation and the color of your eyes seem more gray than emerald.

Gray eyes, they suited your morose mood for the day, though you were positive the water was simply playing tricks on your fragile mind. Your eyes have always been deep strokes of ivy green and flecks of gold-if the light favored you enough.

People were always staring into your face, frozen in admiration, always in a less-than-flattering way. It's rare, in Japan, where the typical color of the eyes are dark brown or light brown. Any variation had automatically made you a target of looks that ranged from; awe struck to jealousy. You're a variant. None of the gals in the House of Gei were like you. In some parts of the country people would kill for your eyes.

Maybe that's what he wants, he's just waiting for a chance to gouge them out.

Maybe you were just grasping at straws to make sense of things. How silly your thoughts were.

******

**Earlier today...**

Things seem to fall into their usual paste and the events of the night before are easy to forget, you have bigger dragons to slay.

You address Kakashi the very next morning. He is neither startled nor astonished to see you burst through his office door like vengeance personified. Two hired guns wearing dark grotesque masks have apprehended your forearms-much too late to prevent you from storming inside. As if to compensate for their lack of service, their leather gloves dig into your arm and prevent you from advancing any further. You're within distance to spit but you decide against it. You'd hate to walk this earth without arms and hands.

"We tried to stop her." One of the masks say, in a muffled drone of a voice.

Kakashi is reclined in his chair, the veil that normally obscures half his face is discarded on top his untidy desk admist; gaudy porn magazines, books, iridescent condom wrappers and peppermints. His thin lips were framed around a silver hookah pen, smoke curling from his reddened nose. He takes a long pull from the pin, then smirks around it, smoke snaking through the perfect spaces between his pearly teeth.

"Sssssa," he hisses like a snake, really dragging it out, and then the accompanying silky soft, "Kura."

The odd thing was that you had seen that smirk a thousand times before, always believing it was either comforting you or feeding you some type of strength. You always felt stronger when you were the recipient of Kakashi's very rare smiles. At this moment, however, it felt like alcohol being thrown on a deep cut, like dirt in your eyes. Every bone in your body twitched with unrest, wanting to lurch and deliver something violently accurate to how you felt. Words just wouldn't cut it at this point.

"Should we remove her sir?" the second mask inquired, a note lower than the one who had spoken before. The entire room feels stale and stuffy, your heart is thrashing through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the treacherous bastard. Silently condemning him like a Salem witch.

Kakashi hunches forward, elbows on the cluttered desktop, his eyes hadn't moved to address either of the mask who apprehend you. He yanks the pen from between his lips, casually whistling out scented smoke, peppermint. He pointed the pin from one mask to the other.

"Are you assholes getting paid to try and prevent my girls from getting to me?" he asks in a suave manner, though the insult contradicted his tactful tone. The masked guards don't answer but you can feel their fingers thawing off your arm. You jerk away from them, like you were the one with the strength. Immediately you start rubbing to get the blood flowing through your arms. Kakashi's silver brows raise and he's nodding, shocks of silver hair falling over his eyes. "There you go, good pooches. Now, _shoo_ and close the fucking door on your way out."

He doesn't have to ask twice, a gust of air touches your face and the next thing you know, the door is groaning and clicking shut. Kakashi slams the pin down on the table, which overrides your anger temporary and has you nearly jumping out your skin for half a second. Your heart stammering. Kakashi pinches the bridge of his nose, head turned up to the ceiling as he reclines again. He is muttering something along the lines of, _'fucking pooches.'_

It struck you as an oddity that Kakashi would have the guards stationed outside of his office door and not in front of the building. They were always positioned at the front door, like two burly pitbulls who only existed to murder intruders who don't pay the building entry fee. That's exactly what they were.

The House of Gei's hours of operation were strictly afternoon-midnight. The place needed tons of maintenance and restocking, the gals needed to be pumped full of baby-resistant pills, checked by the house physician, cleaned thoroughly and looking like they hadn't been fucked into oblivion less than ten hours ago. Kakashi claims the morning hours are a privilege, a way for the gals to cope and get into the correct mindset.

The truth was, mornings weren't for the girls, they were to ensure that the House of Gei was up to regulation and lawsuit free. Kakashi didn't give a flying fuck about any of them, he was only making sure everything ran smoothly under his watch, so as to not be implicated.

_Selfish asshole._

"Did you give it some thought?" he asked and then, after careful examination of your hardened and clueless face, "Our conversation last night."

"Conversation?" You ask, not bothering to filter the bite from your voice. "You said I was only standing in the lineup to fill in for an absent gal, liar."

You don't miss the way his jaw hardens, his eyes blacken and then he's breathing through his nostrils. Reigning in those sharp impulses and it looks painful. He places his fingertips together, like the start of a prayer and nudges those fingers against his lips.

"You were," He stated simply. "and then someone wanted you, even payed a pretty penny for you."

"So, what? That just automatically justifies you handing me over like chopped liver?!"

The pitter-patter in your chest feels light but rapid and intense. Like two fingers tapping a single key on a piano. The notes are getting heavier, deeper.

"It's nothing personal sweetheart, although for my part in this, I'm deeply sorry," He claimed, rising from his chair and shoving his hands into the pockets of his new shag robe; white and coarse.

In his defense, he did try and at least look sympathetic-or feign it anyway but it didn't come off as sincere to you. No, he had become the epitome of mistrust in your mind and his fatal mistake was revealing himself to you. It only took you one time to learn a valuable lesson and this was the first one-in a long time-that would stick.

"Tch, you've got a funny way of showing it."

Kakashi withdraws a peppermint from his pocket and carefully unravels it, the noise agitates you. He id always popping those things like painkillers. He's the very reason you'll never eat one again. He tosses one back like medicine and rolls the wrapper around between his palms.

"You're so frustratingly young, your mind can't possibly grasp the opportunity you've stumbled across."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? An opportunity?! Anyone could get fucked.

You're frowning, "Being younger has nothing to do with it, I never wanted to do this from the get go. Being fucked and treated like a mit for dicks isn't some rare business opportunity. Even you can't romanticize this job."

Kakshi is chuckling, tossing his head back and then sighing in exasperation, still circulating the crackling wrapper.

"Oh Sakura, your linear way of thinking is vexingly juvenile. I honestly thought you would assimilate to this give-and-take lifestyle by now. You're so focused on the physical aspect of it all, you can't see that there's always a race before the actual finish line."

_What the hell?_

"There's nothing more to it but the physical aspect! It's sex, that's all there is."

"In a sense, I suppose but I've told you once before, it's not all black and white."

"And, I've told you before, I don't care, I don't want to be some whore. I want to help my parents but I won't sell my fuckin body to do that, even if it somehow pays their bills. They won't be happy knowing that I've chosen to help them this way. They'll blame themselves, maybe even be disgusted in me. They would n-never want me...," you trail off and it's harder and harder to breath. The truth is piercing your chest, like a knife being twisted. "They wouldn't want me to be in a place like this. My parents believe in me to do better things with myself, things that I could be proud of doing…not this, not..here."

A lump pressures your throat and you can't swallow enough to get it down. It doesn't budge, your skin starts to prickle, body a tremor of nerves that won't be shaken. All you can do is stare at the bareness of your toes. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you console yourself.

You can hear Kakashi shuffling, he sucks in a long worn-out breath and papers are shuffled. He starts murmuring to himself, sucking lewdly on the mint in his mouth; _'Where is that damn thing? Ah...mmh, voilà!"_

Your chest feels like it's being grated on a boulder, everything is angrily pulsating under the pressure of revelation. What would your parents think? Certainly no parent wanted to be the producer of a glorified whore. Which, arguably you weren't, not if you had anything to say about it.

Should I quit? And go where, back to center village to beg? I'll take my chances there. What are the chances of Kakashi even letting me free? Unlikely.. I owe him and he knows I owe him. Maybe he'll beat me, he beats everyone else and he's known them a lot longer than he's known me.

"Maybe I've got some sort of soft spot for you kid," Kakashi admits, almost sounding reluctant. Or maybe that's just the way he's designed it. You can smell the faintness of liquor, cheap aftershave and heavy mint. You didn't even know he had made a stealthy move to approach. You want to step back but your legs are shaking with inertia and you're still looking down at your toes like a wary orphan awaiting a verdict.

"but look at this, this is all you."

You blink, hoping to expel the tears that hung somewhere between falling and staying. When none fell, you look up hesitantly. Kakashi is holding a suede burlap sack; it's grey and it's drawstrings are dark red, like blood. It's full and lumpy. Kakashi shakes it and the unmistakable sound of coins being jostled about has your eyes wide.

"It's over 5k, there are two identical bags just like this one," Kakashi announces. "More has gone into this building, than we've ever gotten out of it sweetheart. None of my girls wanted this life either but they happen to be damn good with their very wicked talents. I know it ain't the glamorous and practical life your folks wanted for you-or that you want for yourself but this doesn't have to be a dead end. This job has it's rewards. I know you think I'm a sleazy pimp, just trying to sell you bullshit. And maybe I am but look at this, do you hear that, sweetheart? This doesn't lie."

He shakes the bag again, the sound is louder, like several bells simultaneously ringing. You roll your eyes instinctively wanting him to get to the point. He had a very annoying way of dragging out a punchline and now you realized why, he was an evil son of a bitch. The bad guy always likes to hear themselves talk about their grand scheme.

"Hear me out," he says, somewhat plaintively, his voice softening. "If you want to tuck tail and run, your earnings from yesterday's transaction is more than enough to pay off your ties to me. The loans to your parents, expunged. The severance pay however, won't be much I'm afraid."

Was that really all? You had good reason to be dubious of that. As far as impromptu conferences with you and Kakashi go, things rarely went your way, even when you thought they were.

You swallow hard, tucking a lock of frayed hair behind your ear, looking skeptical. Kakashi is grinning down at you. He's baring more teeth than a shark and you're already prepared for the hurdle that comes with freedom. The catch, so to speak. You gesture with your hand for him to get on with it.

"What else?"

He seems surprised by your pushy tone; his eyes darken even more and he almost looks withdrawn. Did he really think you wouldn't leave? Being here has challenged your morality enough.

"The client. You see, he's paid for three nights and you've only completed one. The deal would be null if you suddenly up and left. I'd imagine he'd want a full refund sweetheart and that just doesn't sit well with me."

_There it is. In typical Kakashi fashion, more._

"Can't you just get someone else to do it?"

After all they were all blessed with the same parts and the only parts that mattered in a place like this.

Kakashi grimaced and nodded from side to side as though he were running the probability of that working. Didn't seem too favorable.

"You know full well sweetheart that if just anyone could take your place, I would have been able to persuade that gentleman to settle for someone other than you."

As much as you want to somehow deny that to build your anti-Kakashi resume, you were there last night when Kakashi tried to convince the stranger to indulge in other samples of women. He was dead set on getting you, he could hardly keep his hands off you while he and Kakashi discussed the arrangements.

_His hands…_

For a flicker of a second your skin breaks out in a warm tingle of feeling and you can feel the ghost of those fingers on you, melting your skin like a flame does to wax. Hot smoke skidding over your skin, absorbed into your pores. Your ears are still buzzing with those promises, those disgusting words that made your toes curl and your brain float in a blinding haze. Explicit curses seemed enchanted coming from his lips, like some arousing incantation that bewitched your flesh and darkened your mind.

Your heart is writhing wildly, stomach levitating into your throat and you can't tell if this is making you sick or anxious. Nausea should be the first instinct you have in relation to your would be, 'rapist' but there was no revulsion and you weren't entirely sure if it could be rape. You were pathetically pleading for something to go down, up until the moment he realized just how young and inexperienced you are.

It was all so confusing and it shouldn't have mattered because he didn't get you.

He didn't get me.

You remind yourself, almost laughing for some moronic reason.

"Sweetheart?"

Kakashi extends a hand and you stumble backward, away, like he's offering you a dead rat off the street. He doesn't appear to be insulted by your guarded retraction, the bag is at his side and he's staring in your face curiously and then suddenly it shifts and he's narrowing his eyes at you.

It's obvious what he's going to ask but you don't know how to answer so you let him say it, to grant you time to think.

"Did he hurt you?"

_Did he?_

Not in any way that mattered. Were you even hurt? The guy just realized you weren't his cup of tea and bailed, you had no right to act hurt because of it. Ugh! It doesn't even matter. It shouldn't. You were just horny and angry. It could have literally been any other guy off the street and you would have reacted exactly the same. Physical contact wasn't something you were accustomed to and on the off chance that you were its recipient, you became a slave to it.

_Especially when it felt that good.._

That was all, it had nothing to do with a particular person. Yes, you were curious, maybe a little even weirded out by the guy but he wasn't special. He wasn't god's gift to underage girls. Obviously not if he had to buy sex-and for three nights at that. That loaded and all he could think of buying was a person?

"If he's damaged you in any way, legally, I may have some type of hold on the assets we've acquired," Kakashi says calculative, giving two shakes to the bag of money to get his point across. He turns on his heel and rounds back to his desk, tossing the bag on top of it. It seemed rather ambiguous to phrase that way and you already catch his drift.

For reasons beyond your understanding, or your mental capacity, something in your chest flares and you're scowling at the very idea.

_He would really frame the guy? I wonder how often he's resorted to such desperate measures?_

Would the stranger even come back? The way that he left-- the last thing he said to you could be interpreted as open-ended.

Best case scenario, he doesn't show up tonight. If he didn't come to get his money by now, you were happy knowing that your confession had done some good. There was one less freak on the streets shopping for women to sleep with.

Maybe you could be some type of vigilante that went around scaring off dirty bastards with your age. This could turn out to be your true calling.

"Sakura, have you visited the physician? If you're hurt, she'll need to examine you, head to toe. What time is it?" he asks more so to himself, he yanks his wrist free from the sleeves of his pelted robe and glances."Nine…fifty, Tsunade should be in by now, go give her a visit."

_Like you care_

"I'm unharmed." You grumble, your arms feel stiff and there's sweat soaking the underarms of your garment. You hadn't realized that you were frozen in the same position the guards had left you in. The building was always so hot in the early morning and there was a lot of pent up frustrations in you. You didn't even think to shower before tossing on clothes and busting into the office. Nervously you finger-comb through your hair, through knots and tangles.

"Still, I'd have a sound mind, seeing it on record. Don't worry, this is just a minor precaution…should this deal end tragically I'd like to be assured that the money stays."

_Yes, as long as the money is safe..._

"Whatever. I'm gone after this, Kakashi."

Kakashi twists back around and his arms are tightly woven over his chest, he looks you over a few times and then, he nods.

"I really wish you'd reconsider but yes, if all goes well, you're no longer indebted to me. Let's just hope the streets will be kind to your return."

You scoff in disbelief at the fact that he is trying to intimidate you.

"Yeah, well, anything is better than here."

You don't know if you mean it or not. Just seemed like a thing to piss him off. And it does.

******

**Presently...**

This time around, you're better prepared-or just slightly more aware. You didn't have an impressive wardrobe, so you had to borrow a silky violet kimono from one of the gals close in age. Hinata Hyuga. It wasn't very often you crossed paths with the, 'Demure Princess' as most referred to her but the few times you had, she was very easy to talk to. Even though it wasn't often that she actually talked at all. You did most of the talking and maybe that's why you could tolerate her, even if she probably hated your guts for constantly complaining. She never bothered to tell you to your face.

It's not like you wanted to look good or anything but your favorite-and only Kimono had been shredded to bits the night prior. You certainly didn't want any of the gals to see you waltzing around looking like you had just gotten mauled by a bear. Though that was an accurate depiction of the act.

The lineup began as it always had, the girls would come into the assembly room and stand in three lines, ranked by age and experience. The gals standing in the first rank were young, often new. The more seasoned whores were in the back row.

You had procured a space beside Hinata, whom met her approach with a generous little smirk. There was a lily tucked into her silky done up bun, you could see the bobby pins tucked to keep it in place. The girl took great pride in her appearance and you had enlisted her in your endeavor tonight.

"Will this thing stay?" you grouse, feeling along the metal ridges of the hair stick tucked painfully into your hair. There is a silver embossed wyvern wrung tight along the length of stick and pretty trinkets that clattered like crystals on the end. You weren't use to this level of sophistication, it's only natural for you to fuss about the pain of maintaining an image.

Hinata pops your hand good-narturedly.

"Leave it alone and it just might," she scolds. You shoot her a leer and she smiles innocently. "You look so pretty."

You roll your eyes so far back into your head, they almost feel stuck.

"I just want to get this over with.."

If he even bothers to show up. You hope it's a repeat of the last time, you hope you escape with your virtue.

The gals in the line behind you are helping each other, teasing their hair, fixing their clothing. Like they were participating in some kind of pageant. You didn't understand why they had to look perfect, nothing about them would be untouched.

The assembly room is quite small, voices carry and soon, everyone is talking. When Kakashi walks in, the chatter goes mum. Kakashi has changed into a darker robe, thats open and revealing the start of his pectorals. His shoes shrike fiercely against the varnished wood, the stranger at his heels, eyes already on the line.

"Cherry, dear,"

You cringe at the name but otherwise remain silent.

"Mr. Uchiha is here for your company."

_What?_

Your eyes are drawn back to the stranger, a brow arched. The room is silent and you know you should be moving as ordered.

You stare at the stranger and he looks vaguely familiar but it doesn't match up to your memory and something is off.

Those onyx eyes are obstinate and unreadable, cheekbones prominent, the slight arch of his aquiline nose like you remembered but the hair.

_It's gone.._

The long dark mane that you remembered, it wasn't there.

"Cherry?" Kakashi asks, tight-lipped and impatient, like someone whose had enough of your shit.

You're shaking your head at him and the ornaments in your hair break the tension, like voltage in the air.

"That's not," you began, your voice a tremor of bewilderment.

"Sakura, what is it?"Hinata whispers without turning towards you.

The impersonator has raven dark hair, that spills over one eye and drops around razor sharp jaws. He never breaks his stare on you and you can't peel your eyes off him, as you try to make sense of this sorcery.

You are certain that you've never met this man a day in your life but parts of him seem familiar. 

Does Kakashi think you're that dumb?

That isn't, 'Mr. Uchiha'. 

Then, who is it?

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos or comments are fuel for the soul. <3


End file.
